BURN IN HELL

1.

I want to kill you.

Wrap my guitar-calloused fingers around that pretty little throat of yours. Blue, black, and green always were your colors except for that time you wore red and I wished that it was you bleeding

And not

Me.

2.

I don't know what I hate more about you, the fact that I can't trust you or the fact that you know all my secrets. But I guess those two

F

A

L

L

Hand in hand.

But I know some of your secrets too and I never really could keep my mouth shut.

(slut)

3.

I wish I wasn't so vindictive. I wish I hadn't inherited the fact that you could drop dead right now and I would still hold a grudge against (I hate) you. Inherited from my mother who still brings up everyday that one time I went shopping and left her all alone.

4.

I am surrounded by fools

who would rather lie to my face then tell me what they're really thinking even though I'll hear about it later from someone else who can't keep their mouth shut.

(Slut)

I'm so glad to know you think you're special.

I'm so happy to hear you think you're god's gift to us all.

(Even though god doesn't exist but if he did he wouldn't give a shit about you.)

5.

And I haven't quite yet past the stage where I can stop hating you. And I do, you know. Hate you that is.

And you've told people "don't worry. It's okay that she doesn't like you. She doesn't like a lot of people." As if it was no big deal but I told you those things in secrecy thinking a friend wouldn't stab me in the back.

But then I remembered it's a friend's betrayal that hurts the worst and the scars on my back from the last knife still haven't faded away.

(I hold a grudge, remember?)

6.

I guess I shouldn't worry.

We're headed for different things although no doubt you'll never stop leeching from your daddy's bank account. You'll probably never get a job.

I try to act like you're not hurting me.

I try to pretend that I'm still strong even though it's hard to be strong when your whole world is crashing down around you.

When your mother is a cripple who cries, she feels guilty because it's 50/50 that we'll get her disease. Three out of six ain't bad claimed the doctor.

We're only statistics.

And I'm breathing in a world that is about to fade away, playing mother to a bunch of kids who don't realize that one of these days she is not coming home.

And maybe that's why I hate you.

Because you're young and carefree,

(the same age as me.)

But tragedy has made me old.

7.

I wanted to be like you.

To drink and smoke and dance and have fun with a never ending cash flow. Your ignorance looks like something close to bliss.

But then again, I don't have all that much time to wallow in self pity before I have to figure out who forgot to take their pills and what it is I should cook for dinner.

Thanks so much for all your help "friend".

You can burn in hell.